Till The End of The World
by Savari
Summary: Just a little oneshot set a few weeks after Buffy's resurrection. Buffy POV and Spike POV. A usual night in the graveyard.


**Till The End of The World**

Punch. Kick. Dodge.

The petite blonde ducked under the retro-vamp's right hook, coming up and spinning into a powerful roundhouse that sent the monster sprawling into a nearby gravestone. The sound of cracking ribs grated across the slayer's ears, drawing a wince from her. Once she wouldn't have even noticed, would have pounced on the downed vamp with quip and a stake to the heart. As things stood now, though, the bloodsucker scrambled to its feet and growled at the frozen slayer, pain deepening the ridges on its forehead.

"What's wrong, slayer?" The vamp affected a concerned tone, attempting, and failing, to look worried. Really, with its disfigured face, it just looked constipated. Once, Buffy would have told it so. Now, she just shrugged and blinked out of her stupor with a blank look on her face.

"Oh well… my lucky day then," The vampire leered at the slayer, obviously mistaking her apathy for weakness.

A feral snarl ripped from the thing's throat as it lunged for the slayer, aiming for her neck. Buffy sidestepped it's attack, reaching out and staking it as it sailed through the air where she had been standing.

"Not really," She murmured, not even glancing back to watch the dust settle as she walked away.

She hadn't been… back for long, a couple of weeks, maybe. Honestly, the slayer had lost count of how many days she had been existing outside of heaven now. Everything seemed to blur into one long, tiring nightmare. Eat, sleep, slay. Emphasis on the sleep. _Seriously, for someone who was dead for months, I have been sleeping _way_ too much. _

Thing was, she didn't have the energy for anything else. It seemed that dying had just taken all the life out of her. Shocking, hey?

Buffy snorted softly as she wandered aimlessly through the cemetery. Everyone looked at her like she should be happy and grateful and… Just not the way she was. Which wasn't fair, she thought. _What, do they think you can just raise a girl from the dead and expect puppies and sunshine and… everything to just be right. For me to just be whole again, like that?_

Buffy hated herself for these thoughts, she knew Willow just thought she was doing what was right. Probably they had all thought she was stuck in some hell dimension. Didn't it ever occur to them that maybe she was somewhere nice and warm and happy and… finished? But then, why would they think that? She had died falling through a portal to a hell dimension. _I guess it makes sense that they'd think I was in hell._

But these thoughts didn't change the fact that she had been happy and whole and safe for the first time in… ever. And they'd taken that away from her, forced her back into this skin-shell and sent her out to fight again. Good old Buffy, she'll save the day.

Buffy sighed and shook her head. She really did hate this self-pitying attitude, but she couldn't seem to shake it. It was as though it had become a part of her and there was no way out, no way to shed the heavy weight of grief and depression and guilt that made her skin feel tight and yet made her feel empty at the same time.

_Maybe this is normal, though, _she mused. _Right, like there is a normal way to be after all of this. No way to tell if this is the way I should feel, apart from the fact that I do._

The cool night breeze brushed over her sin, raising goose-flesh on her bare arms. _Should have brought a jacket_. A rustle in some bushes ahead caught her attention. Her slayer senses prickled, the fine hairs dusting the back of her neck rising in response to some invisible threat. But not inaudible, obviously.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Buffy sing-songed, flicking back a wayward strand of silky blonde hair as she stalked lightly closer to the bush.

A peroxide blonde stepped out of the bushes with a noise that could have been disdain or embarrassment.

"Slayer," Spike nodded, not meeting her eyes.

Buffy raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms in typical you'd-better-have-a-good-reason-for-stalking-me position. "Spike," she bit off, her voice sharper than she had intended. She really tried to show him some respect, I mean, he deserved it after all his help while she was… gone. And even before that, though she always knew in the back of her mind that he was only helping out because he… loved… her.

"You mind telling me what you were doing skulking about in the bushes?" The eyebrow rose higher.

For a moment Spike looked ashamed, then he rallied.

"Hey! I was not 'skulking', I'll have you know I was just… Coming home from a… Poker night," Spike, not so good with the excuse-making.

"Right," Clearly not buying this flimsy excuse, Buffy uncrossed her arms and continued her patrol. Spike didn't accompany her.

_  
TTEoTW_

_  
Let her go off and get herself killed, then. _Spike stalked through the graveyard, intent on drinking himself into a coma. Not that it'd work, mind you, Vampire after all. This was one thing Spike hated about being a vampire – probably the only thing; it was bloody hard to get good and drunk.

_I wasn't bloody stalking her, _Spike growled in his mind. _Can't exactly tell 'er I was worried about her, though. She'd pitch a fit._

He really hadn't been stalking her, per se. More like watching from a safe distance, strictly to make sure she wasn't in danger, of course. _But she'd never want me there, wouldn't believe that I really just wanted to make sure she was okay. Which, she's obviously not._

Spike groaned and slammed the door to his crypt open, letting it fall shut behind him as he stalked over to the mini-fridge. _Knew they shouldnt've brought her back. She's broken and they won't see it. Won't let themselves see what's right under their bloody noses. _The fridge shook as he slammed the door shut, the bottles inside rattling ominously. With practised hands Spike mixed blood and booze in a glass, taking a long gulp from his Vampalicious cocktail.

Spike had missed her fiercely when she was gone, no mistake about that. But if bringing her back caused her so much pain, he didn't see the point. But there was nothing he could do about it now. The Scoobies had done their thing, their reckless, irresponsible, thing. And now she was here, alive and physically well. And Spike intended to make damn sure she stayed that way.

_I'll do whatever I can to help, whatever she'll let me do, anyway, _He vowed, talking another swallow. _Protect the girl. Till the end of the world._


End file.
